


Welcome to the New Age (Teen Wolf: The Next Generation)

by Darach



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future, Future Character Death, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Next Generation, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 01:50:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17214752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darach/pseuds/Darach
Summary: History repeats itself for everyone, and when your town is situated near a Nemeton, everything comes in cycles.  Twenty years after "The Wolves of War", old faces now guide new ones, and threats both old and new will soon plague the pack and its members, both old and new.





	Welcome to the New Age (Teen Wolf: The Next Generation)

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of major character deaths have taken place in the past off-screen. If one of your favorites is one of the casualties, stick around. In a place like Beacon Hills, you can never be quite sure of whether death is really an ending. This extremely long "chapter" is to establish the basis of many new characters created for the amusement and torture of my future nefarious plans. There are parts in here that are likely to be dull and boring, but I consider them necessary nonetheless. I created this "world" as the basis for a roleplaying game, so whether I continue to write my own narrative here will depend on interest and enjoyment, so all feedback is welcome. This is my first attempt at writing anything for the site, so bear with me :) I changed character names a few times, so if you spot one that's likely an error, please let me know.
> 
> There will be a "cheat sheet" at the end to identify the new major players. I didn't put it on the front end because I like the idea of a journey of discovery. If you're impatient, feel free to skip ahead, though you'll miss part of the fun.

“Sheriff, you can go on in now,” the secretary smiled.  “Principal Martin is expecting you.  I’ll keep an eye on Mr. Stilinski here.”

It took everything he had not smile as the boy slinked down in the chair in the weak attempt to avoid the elderly woman’s imperious gaze.  He saw the black eye, and he winced.  It looked painful.  He walked over and hooked a finger under the teen’s chin and lifted it up to examine to bruise more closely.  “You okay?”

The only response was an almost imperceptible nod.  Taking that as a hint that his son didn’t want to talk about it right now, he exhaled a slightly exasperated sigh and walked into the principal’s office, but not before cupping his hand gently against the affected cheek.

When he closed the door behind him, the woman behind the desk seemed at her wit’s end.  “Are _you_ okay?” he asked.  “You look like you’re ready to scream, and that rarely ends well.”

Despite her frustration, she glanced up and took a break from running her hands through her hair to smile.  “You know the old expression ‘Mama said there’d be days like this’?” she grinned.  “Mine didn’t tell me just how many there would be.”

“Anything I can do?” he asked, walking over to wind his fingers into that same hair, kissing the top of her head.

She looked up at him gratefully.  “You can take him home before I kill him.  I can’t play favorites.  He was fighting at school—which he apparently started—so he’s suspended.” Reaching into her desk drawer, she withdrew a ring of keys and handed it to the Sheriff.  “Not to mention grounded.  No going over to anyone’s house. I want him in his room where I can make sure he stays put.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he saluted.  “Just try to remember he’s not actually a bad kid, and he’s not doing it on purpose.”

She raised one eyebrow at him accusingly.  “He’s his father’s son.  I’m not sure I agree with your assessment on either count,” she teased.  “I’ll see you after your shift.  Anything particular you want for dinner?”

He shook his head.  “I’ll grab us some takeout on my way home.  I’m not sure I trust you not to poison him,” he chuckled.

She rolled her eyes, but after a moment, she laughed.  “Probably a good plan.”

 

“I heard her laughing,” the teen looked up at the Sheriff hopefully.  “Is that a good sign?”

A headshake in the negative came his reply.  “Not even close, buddy, but she’ll get un-mad.  Let’s get you home and you can tell me all about it.”

Head hung down in defeat, the boy shoved his hands into his pockets and followed the man to his police cruiser before a cellphone was handed to him.  A questioning facial expression brought a smile.  “You look like you need to talk to your Dad, and you left yours on the dining room table again.  I saw it when I was home for lunch.”

“ _You’re_ my Dad,” the teen said reflexively, but he was quickly cut-off by a hand halting his words.

“Yes, I am,” he said.  “And I always will be, but he’s your father.  I may not be as smart as you—I’m not sure there _is_ anyone as smart as you—but I know when everything is pushing you to that pressure point.  I’d rather you let off a little steam before you blow.”

The Sheriff pulled the car over and put it in park.  “This isn’t a competition.  You get that, right?  I love you.  He loves you.  He may be three time zones away, but that doesn’t mean you’re alone.  Far from it.  None of us has a clue what it’s like inside your head.  I won’t insult you by pretending to, but I don’t need to be a werewolf to smell all the emotions coming from you.”

Reaching over, he selected a name from his contact list and pressed the speaker button.  Instantly, he was greeted by a familiar voice.  _“Jordan, is everything okay?”_

“Everything’s fine, Stiles.  No problem,” Parrish told him.  “Somebody just needed some time with you.”

 _“Noah?  What’s going on, pal?”_ Stiles assumed correctly.

Jordan reached over to muss the boy’s hair.  “I’ll give you guys a chance to talk,” he told them before climbing out of the squad car and shutting the door behind him.

 

Noah was staring at the computer screen so intently that he didn’t hear his bedroom window being opened.  He also didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until arms were wrapped around his neck.  “I sincerely hope you don’t stare at your porn this intently.  I _really_ cannot handle someone sneaking up on you and leaving you with your pants around your ankles and your junk in your hand.”

Pushing the familiar grasp off him, Noah smirked, spinning the chair to face him.  “And that would be _hands—_ plural.  Don’t be jealous… too late.” He narrowed his eyes into a damning glare.  “What are you doing here anyway, Aiden?”

“Can’t a brother drop by unannounced?” the other boy asked, feigning shock.

Noah smirked at him.  “Half-brother.”

Aiden clutched at his heart, as if in pain.  “You wound me.”

“And you’re a terrible liar.  Tara told you,” he stated, rather than asked.

The blond boy grinned.  “She did, but it’s not like she had to.  You getting your ass kicked was on YouTube about thirty seconds after you threw the first punch.  That guy was twice your size.  What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking my best friend who was standing two feet away would do something about it since, you know, werecoyote and all,” Noah deadpanned.

Aiden shook his head.  “You know he’s pretty much a devout pacifist and all-around good guy like his Dad.  He doesn’t think his super-strength is fair, so he’s not about to step in to clock the biggest attacker on the lacrosse team and piss his sister off.”

“Tara is the one who stopped the fight!” Noah protested, running his fingers through his fire-red hair with an exasperated sigh.

“By being the captain of the Cyclones and telling him to back off from pummeling you to death, not by throwing him through a wall!” Aiden fired back.

Noah spun his chair around again until he no longer faced his brother.  “Maybe Tate should join the team and put that guy on his ass a few times.”

Aiden laughed.  “You know he’d rather spend his free time working with his Dad at the animal clinic than running scrimmages.  Me?  I’d own that field if I could do what he could do.”

“You already own that field—no super-strength required—you just do it at Devenford,” Noah reminded him.  “And quit pretending you’re jealous.  That’s Allison’s shtick.  I swear at times I forget that you only look like Jackson.  Some of the stories I’ve heard.”

The blond boy shook his head with a wry smile.  “All true.  I’ve asked him.  Maybe I got more than the genes that make me look like him from the test tube.  Besides, my Dad was hardly a saint, though my namesake uncle made him come off as one by comparison.”

Noah’s face got serious.  “Do you ever resent it?  Not being like Ethan?”

“A werewolf?” Aiden asked.  “Honestly?  Not really.  Ali does, but you’re right, she got her Dad’s insecurity… the old Jackson, anyway.  What’s this all about?”

Noah turned around once more, holding up a textbook.  “Genetics.  Tara and Tate got the trifecta—literally.  You and Allison got the looks of both parents, your fathers’ athleticism, and Mom’s brain.  And me…?”

Aiden suddenly understood.  “You want me to say that you got your Dad’s ADHD… or your grandmother’s mental illness… but that’s not who you are.  For starters, you can’t focus because you’re one of the smartest human beings on the planet, and your mind works on levels that would require blunt force trauma for you to be dumbed-down to genius levels.”

When Noah looked surprised, Aiden was pleased with himself.  “Oh, you didn’t know that I knew the IQ test we took last year showed you to have an IQ in the 250-300 range?  Which I believe categorizes you as an ‘unmeasurable genius’, making you over half-again smarter than our mother… the only two-time recipient of the Fields Medal in history.”

“Hacking again, I see,” Noah chided.  “Danny’s a bad influence.”

Aiden smiled.  “Hardly.  I can get into trouble all by myself.  Jackson says Danny checks in on us periodically to make sure he still hasn’t gone off the rails, but I think it’s just an excuse to visit.  I mean, Dad died over ten years ago.  I barely remember him anymore.”

It wasn’t lost on Noah that neither Aiden nor Allison could bring themselves to say anything but “died” when it came to Ethan.  Not “killed” and certainly not “murdered”.  To have survived homicidal fellow Alpha Pack members, a Darach, a nogitsune, an Anuk-Ite, and bloodthirsty hunters only to be killed by a werewolf who wanted revenge for something the twins had done while currying Deucalion’s favor seemed a particularly bitter—and painful—irony.  Aiden was right, though.  He and Allison were all of three when that happened.  Though the blond boy referred to Jackson by name when discussing him in context with Jackson’s late husband, at all other times, he was just “Dad”.  The only one he really knew.

“Does it bother you…?” Noah began.

“To not remember?” Aiden finished.  “Sometimes, but that won’t be your fate.  You have schizophrenia, not frontotemporal lobar degeneration.  You’re not your grandmother Claudia.  You take your meds and you function fine.  You will _stay_ fine.”

Noah’s heart swelled.  He could tell how much his brother believed that—how adamant he was—from the emphasis on every word.  “Schizophreniform disorder,” he corrected as a reminder.  “I don’t quite have the symptoms at the right intervals and duration to give me hebephrenic schizophrenia with delusional disorder as a differential diagnosis.  Too bad, then I could get a crazy check.”

“No one who can spout that amount of psychobabble gets to call themselves crazy,” Aiden snorted.

“I have complete understanding of sixty-eight languages and passing fluency in more than 120 others.  Spitting out medical jargon is not impressive.  I can do it while sitting in front of my therapist and trying to ignore the people talking to me who aren’t actually there,” Noah countered, looking downtrodden.  “I do it all the time.”

Aiden’s heart broke at that.  He knew when his brother got like this that the best option was to take the reins in the conversation and steer it away from the topic at hand.  Reaching over, he grabbed the textbook, flipping it open and thumbing through the pages.  “You said the fight at school was about genetics.  How so?”

“Bio project to do a family tree that reflects our genetic diversity.  I asked a question about including you and Allison…,” Noah began, his words trailing off.

Aiden understood.  “And the fact that the three of us have the same mother led to someone calling her a whore or the like?”

Noah hesitated before shrugging, “Slut.”

“You do realize she’s the principal of the school, right?  She can handle her students calling her names… if she even gave a damn.  You get that, right?”

Noah didn’t lift his focus to meet the stare he imagined was boring a hole into his forehead.  “I didn’t want him to get in trouble.  I wanted him to shut up.”

Aiden bit his lower lip to keep from showing his amusement at the kicked puppy routine.  “Then why didn’t you just tell Tara?  Tate might not be aggressive, but she is.”

“And have you told Allison that you’re sleeping with Tara?” Noah fired back.

Aiden snorted.  “I haven’t told Ali I’m _dating_ Tara because I prefer my balls where they are, thank you very much.”

Noah grimaced.  “I do _not_ need to know about your sex life or your balls, thank _you_ very much.  I still don’t get why she would have such a problem with that.  I mean, she is sleeping with Tate.  It would be adorable—two sets of twins dating—if it wasn’t so damned nauseating.”

“The difference is Tate is not her biggest rival on the lacrosse field.  And come to think of it, it’s probably good that you didn’t drag Tara into this,” the blond admitted.  “If your Neanderthal public school classmates do the math and realize that Tate and Ali are second cousins, the word ‘inbreeder’ might get thrown around… and then said Neanderthal public school classmates might get thrown around.”

The ginger laughed despite himself.  “Okay, even first cousins can marry in over half of America, and that’s with a 12.5% chance of congenital defects.  Ten percent of worldwide marriages are between first cousins.  Second cousins?  That’s only a 3.5% chance of inherited abnormality… versus a 3% chance with two completely unrelated parents.  That’s why not a single state prohibits it.”

“If you’re going to math, I’m leaving, and you can go talk nerd with Mom,” Aiden teased.

“I’m not sure she wants to talk to me right now,” Noah frowned.

Aiden shook his head.  “You are far too smart to believe something that stupid.  Now quit pouting and tell me about this family tree project.”

“Just doing Punnett squares now,” Noah began.  “We have to do ourselves, parents, and siblings…”

Aiden nodded, “Hence the question, since technically, we are half-siblings.”

“Right,” Noah nodded.  “I mean, the oddities of our birth alone would make for one Hell of a research project.  There’s you and Allison and then me.  Three fathers, three uteri, one mother….”

“And a partridge in a pear tree,” Aiden sing-songed.

“Clever,” Noah said flatly.

Aiden quirked an eyebrow in a way very reminiscent of his twin sister’s father.  “Seriously?”

Noah snorted.  “Not even a little bit.”

“Whatever.  You’re going to bore me with those big words I can never keep straight again, right?”

“You brought it on yourself with Christmas carols,” Noah grinned.  “And yes.  You and Allison are the product of heteropaternal superfecundation.”

Aiden rolled his eyes.  “Kidding.  I can’t remember which term applies to Ali and me and which applies you, but I know what makes babies, even us.  When a Daddy Werewolf-Kanima and a Daddy Werewolf love each other very much, they test tube the baby-making juice and use IVF to implant it into a banshee who used to sleep with one and the twin of the other.”

Noah laughed.  “Right.  They were going for one kid, not sure whose stuff would take, but Mom had released two ova during her menstrual cycle.  Both of said Daddies’ swimmers were swimming around and made winning shots, just in two separate baskets.”

“Okay.  All biologically atypical but not supernatural, so what’s the problem?  Adding you into the mix?”

“Yup.  Superfetation isn’t atypical, it’s rare… _super_ -rare, especially in humans.  There have been ten reported cases, but there’s debate as to whether or not they were even superfetation,” Noah explained.  “I mean, Mom’s weird enough as a banshee, but a second, distinct ovulation surge even a few days apart occurs in maybe 0.3% of women.  A second ovulation surge during concurrent embryonic development is basically unheard of, and yet, here I am… three weeks younger than you two.”

Aiden nodded.  “By physical development, but same birthday since they had to C-section all of us at one time.  Again, weird, but still medically possible.”

Noah shrugged.  “Maybe.  Maybe not.  I mean, they did have to use stem cells from Tara and Tate’s cord blood so you 1.0 and Allison 1.0 would stop killing each other.”

“Yeah.  Werewolf and Kanima genes don’t like each other outside of Dad, so they kept causing spontaneous abortions without a little chimeric help.  Given the circumstances of all of that, I’m surprised Uncle Scott let that happen,” Aiden remarked.  “Though it does go a long way towards explaining when Ali and I fight.  It’s not pretty, as you well know.”

“I’m not entirely sure he knew about it beforehand,” Noah pointed out.  “Mom’s persistent once she gets her mind set on something, and Ms. Morrell has a looser code of ethics than her brother.  Speaking of, do you ever wonder if Dr. Deaton is still alive?”

Aiden shook his head.  “Not really.  You and Tate and Tara were closer to them than we were.  We were still in London when he left Beacon Hills after… you know.”

Noah nodded.  “He took it hard.  Everyone did.”

“I’ve gotten you off-topic again, haven’t I?”

“Easy to do.  Schizo, remember?” Noah asked, only half-joking.  “But yeah.  I don’t know if any of the pregnancies, much less you and Allison’s microchimerism, are truly natural or not.”

Aiden smirked.  “I guess.  You said microchimerism isn’t that uncommon….”

“Fetomaternal microchimerism?  No,” Noah acknowledged before adding, “but you didn’t retain some of Mom’s cells… you retained feto _paternal_ cells… from your fraternal twin’s father.  There’re so many bizarre confluences happening there that I don’t even know where to start.  The killer-cell immunoglobulin-like ligands should have…”

“ENGLISH!” Aiden interrupted.

Noah smiled.  “The cells that normally kill ‘foreign’ cells didn’t, presumably because of some latent regenerative properties in either you, Allison, or both or the stem cells, or all of the above.  Instead, out comes three healthy, human babies, though you’re a dead ringer for a man you, as far as the world can rationalize, are not technically related to.”

“Which is why most people assume Jackson is my biological father, not Ali’s, and we find it easier not to correct them.  Nobody we know that isn’t _in_ the know remembers my Dad or what he looked like.  But even if they did, bombard them with the scientific mumbo-jumbo and point out that there’s not that many genes that are responsible for appearance....”

“Fifteen for facial,” Noah amended, though they had talked about it before.  “Fifteen out of twenty-five thousand genes, add in another two for eye color, and thirteen for hair color and that means there are almost ten million people in the world with the right genetics to look exactly like anyone else, so even factoring in data error…”

Aiden exaggerated a yawn.  “Right.   So, the whole having a double thing isn’t just likely, it’s highly probable, just with a much smaller likelihood of actually crossing paths with one of them.”

“I would focus on that for the paper if I thought I could do it without overanalyzing or being boring,” Noah began, “but I’ll probably focus on genetic tendencies towards illnesses.”

“Are we back to thinking to calling yourself insane again?” Aiden grumbled.

Noah shook his head to the contrary.  “That’s a legal term, not medical.  I was going to dodge that part since we will present part of this to the class, and I’m already the principal’s son.  That makes me weird enough.  Rather than my psychological disorders, even those with biological components, I thought I’d focus on genetic tendencies towards alcoholism.”

Aiden nodded.  Noah was always matter-of-fact about the disease that his namesake grandfather struggled with in the years after his grandmother died.  He was equally so about his father turning to the bottle after _that_ Noah died.  It was always so unbelievable that sitting on a Nemeton, some Hell-spawned creature wasn’t responsible for the man’s death… it was a routine traffic stop.  An ex-con with a gun under his seat and drugs in the trunk didn’t want to be a three-striker, and just like that, Sheriff Noah Stilinski was killed in the line of duty.

The problem lay in that this line of thinking inevitably led to Stiles’ leaving.  Scott had pulled his best friend back from the brink after the elder Noah Stilinski’s death.  Scott hadn’t been there the second time Stiles disappeared into a bottle.  The younger Noah was more than smart enough to know that he had nothing to do with his father leaving, but the insecure boy within him couldn’t reconcile that.  Stiles’ unwillingness to get help for so long was responsible for him not being there.  Lydia’s unwillingness to watch him continue to self-destruct no matter how much she tried to help him was responsible for him not being there.

“Hey!” Aiden interjected, realizing something.  “How in the Hell are Tara and Tate going to do this project?  Aren’t they in Bio with you?”

Noah nodded.  “They aren’t.  Mom never even got the change to kybosh it.  So that Mr. Miller didn’t start asking too many questions, your Dad had him served with an injunction blocking any queries into their genetics on the basis that paternity is sealed by court order.”

Aiden agreed.  “That makes sense.  I mean, it’s where Mom got the idea for superfeta….”

“Superfecundation,” Noah corrected.  “Yeah.  Since Malia got pregnant with them pretty much at the same time.”

“Well, not the _same_ time,” Aiden mused.  “I don’t think Uncle Scott and Uncle Theo were anywhere near _that_ close, at least back then.”

Noah laughed, “Especially right after that.” When his amusement subsided, he thought about the stories of how tense things were in the pack then.  It was something to laugh about now, but it nearly split the then-pack apart.  Malia McCall (then Tate) was just a name to not only Noah and his siblings, but Tara and Tate themselves.  When Malia got pregnant, it was neither planned nor wanted.  She knew what could happen if her child was a werecoyote, and as if the losing part of her power were not enough, on some level, she was afraid losing that power would turn her into her own mother—a vindictive, murderous psychopath.

Scott McCall was not a practicing Catholic.  Melissa McCall had pretty much left the church after she and Rafael divorced, but Scott had enough of that belief system drilled into him as a young age that the notion of terminating the pregnancy was not even an option to him.  He and Malia fought about it worse than they had ever fought about anything.  She went into full sabotage mode.  She was willing to lose Scott if it meant getting rid of the child, but she knew he would never give up on their relationship while there was still a hope.

She had to take away that hope, so she slept with someone else.  Of all people, she slept with Theo.  Admittedly, the once friend had become his murderer, but in the years since the chimera returned from whatever Hell had tormented him, they had become friends again.  Unfortunately, the werecoyote side of the chimera responded to the female werecoyote’s deliberate advances on an instinctual level.  Theo immediately regretted it, but the damage was done… and Malia was pregnant for the second—albeit _same_ —time.

She had resolved to ending one pregnancy.  She couldn’t bring herself to end two, though she innately knew—confirmed by Lydia—that the children would not only rob her of her power, but she would die during childbirth.  With the circumstances changed, Scott wasn’t willing to lose her, and he wanted her to end the pregnancies.  But Malia wasn’t willing to do that, so what should have been a joyous time was darkened by inevitable doom.  She and Scott reconciled, and they even wed.  This time, it was her idea to observe the tradition in which he had been raised so the children would carry his name.  That left True Alpha and chimera on tenuous ground that managed to somehow be both icy and heated at the same time.

“If you and Allison and I are hard for someone to wrap their head around, imagine trying to explain Tate and Tara,” Noah observed.  “Creepy Dread Doctor alterations to Uncle Theo’s DNA to make him a chimera plus werecoyote weirdness equaled embryonic resorption.”

Aiden shook his head in the affirmative.  He remembered this part of the tale, and his brother was right.  Explaining it would be a nightmare.  It still was, even when one knew all the players.  It would have been easier in a post-Anuk-Ite world, but in time, most people either forgot or rationalized away what happened in Beacon Hills.  Those that remembered were few and far between now, and those a generation removed from those events who knew or believed in the supernatural were fewer still.  “Like vanishing twin.”

“Yes and no.  Vanishing twin is usually later in development—weeks down the line—but the killer chimeric and coyote combo in whichever twin it was did it in days and absorbed the DNA.  But the shapeshifter in the one that was consumed wouldn’t give up so easily, and its regeneration caused monozygotic splitting.”

“And one natural chimera became identical twins,” Aiden added, “while that same regeneration caused Tara or Tate—whichever one it was—to ‘heal’ their sex chromosomes.”

Noah was a bit surprised of just how well his brother understood, and he confirmed what he was thinking.  “Yep, which is why the real reason we don’t want them doing genetic testing is that aside from those approximately thirty genes determining looks and the one chromosome that determines gender, they are completely identical.  Two werecoyotes with one werecoyote mother who share two fathers equally—one chimera and one Alpha werewolf.”

“Those old trashy talk shows that finally died off would have had a field day with that,” Aiden mused.  “You are _both_ the father!”

“Mom said it was not a fun time in this house,” Noah began.  “Scott was raising two kids by himself—albeit with Grandma Melissa’s help—and Theo wanted to be a part of his kids’ lives.  Mom told him to let him.  Dad told him not to.  Ultimately, Theo won out through quiet persistence.  When Scott had no choice, and Grandma Melissa wasn’t available, Theo was there.  He always felt so guilty for coming between Scott and Malia, even temporarily.  Uncle Scott eventually forgave him, though.  Kind of his thing.”

Aiden smiled.  “True enough.  And by the time my Dad died, Theo had already moved in with Scott to co-parent.  It’s funny, so many people thought they were _together_ -together because of that.  They never really bothered to correct that misconception because Scott said he’d already had the first and last three great loves of his life—ever the romantic—and Theo just didn’t date.  I don’t think he ever really considered himself worthy of love until he was a father.  I always wondered if Malia hadn’t wanted that in the end.  I mean, she named Tara for Theo’s sister.”

Noah shrugged.  “Maybe, though a case could also be made that it was to be a constant torment for him, too.  Since we never got to know her, I couldn’t hazard a guess.”

“Being co-parents brought them so close, I can see how they would have made a great couple.  Kind of like your Dad and Derek,” Aiden teased.

Noah grimaced.  “It’s not that I object to the idea of my Dad and Derek.  I object to the idea of my Dad and anyone… my mother included.  That was a one-time thing.  Just to have me.  Only then.  Never again.”

“Uh-huh,” Aiden giggled.  “Keep telling yourself that.  Seriously, though.  I’ve always wondered about Stiles and Derek.  I mean Derek’s the one that helped Stiles get sober the second time, since they always had that weird dynamic, and let’s be real.  I like to consider myself completely straight, but Derek’s pretty much insanely hot.  The fact that he hasn’t really aged in the last twenty years doesn’t hurt.  And that smattering of salt-and-pepper in his beard, when he has one, has made him quite the zaddy.”

Noah loudly groaned.  “First of all, why do you know the word ‘zaddy’?  It’s like twenty years old for one.  Secondly, you do realize Derek is your sister’s cousin, right?”

Aiden cackled.  “First of all, I read.  Secondly, first cousin once removed.”

“If you want fun genetics stories, can you imagine how well it went over when Jackson found out he was Malia’s twin brother—and Peter’s son?”

Aiden shook his head.  “I already know that answer.  Dad was pissed.  He wasn’t thrilled about Peter being his father, but he felt like Talia sold him more in an already endless stream of lies when she took that memory from Peter.  Gordon and Margaret Miller were ghosts Jackson had tried to live up to, but ultimately, they were just convenient corpses.  When Dad found out that Scott knew from digging it out of Peter’s subconscious and didn’t tell him, the two of them didn’t talk for ages.  If Dad—Ethan—hadn’t been killed and Dad—Jackson—hadn’t moved us here so Grandpa and Grandma could help raise us, I’m not sure they would have ever gotten past it.”

“I’m not sure if the supernatural or the genetics would have been harder to explain to David,” Noah chuckled.  “At least after Grandpa Noah died and Grandpa David became a widower, he eventually married Grandma Natalie, and she helped him keep track of it all.”

Aiden nodded.  “And then Allison’s grandfather became her step-grandfather as well, and her grandmother became her step-grandmother as well.  What happens when family trees start looking like wagon wheels?” he joked.

“It makes for a small population of living grandparents, about half as many as we should have,” Noah said solemnly.   Melissa McCall, Chris Argent, David Whittemore, and Natalie Martin were pretty much all any of them had in that regard, other than Rafael McCall, who lived on the opposite side of the country.  For their parts, each considered all five children to be their grandkids, regardless of actual parentage.

Aiden startled in alarm.  “Speaking of that, I told Grandpa I’d be back in time for dinner.  I need to go now if I want to eat something.  I still need to head back to the dorms and study for a test tomorrow.  Not all of us can ace an exam without cracking a book,” he smiled.  “You seem a little better now.  You okay if I cut out of here?”

Noah nodded.  “Yeah.  My train of thought has sufficiently veered off-course thanks to you asking questions you already knew the answers to.  I’m not dwelling on anything other than getting this project started.  I also need to do my cheek swab and send it off for DNA testing if I want the results back in time.”

Aiden got up and started for the window.  “Let me know if you need me,” he winked.

“Always,” Noah smiled in return.  “Thanks.”

“Anytime, baby brother,” the blond told him as he climbed out.

The redhead stared at his computer for a moment before starting the Skype call.  Stiles answered immediately.  _“Hey, you.  Twice in one day.  Don’t tell your mother I said this, but maybe you should get suspended more often.  It gives you more free time to talk to me.”_

“Not sure Grandpa Rafe would appreciate me tying up your work hours like that by calling in the middle of the day,” Noah teased.

 _“You let me worry about Rafe McCall,”_ Stiles snorted derisively.  The FBI agent paused to look behind him.  _“Someone just got back from the store.  Get in here and say hello.”_

The image of Derek Hale appeared on the screen for a split second.  _“Hey, Noah,”_ was all he said before disappearing into the kitchen to put the groceries away.  Noah didn’t think anything of the man’s brevity of words.  He was a born werewolf, as accustomed to communicating through touch, scent, sounds, and chemo-signals as actual words, yet he was eloquent when he wanted or needed to be.  At other times, he let Stiles do the talking… which he did… often… like now.

Noah wasn’t even listening.  He was desperately trying not to imagine his father and said werewolf doing things that he had no proof of them doing.  Derek had saved Stiles and now lived with him in DC, even helping the FBI on cases.  If they were more than friends, that was great.  Noah just preferred his ignorance… just like he refused to acknowledge that his mother and Jordan had sex, even after his now-stepfather moved in some four years ago.

When he realized Stiles was staring at him expectantly, Noah contemplated asking him about Grandpa Noah’s drinking problem and even his great-grandfather’s, but he thought better of it.  For starters, he remembered that his father didn’t really know Elias.  Lydia had met the man briefly—after Stiles had been taken by the Wild Hunt—but the formerly abusive monster was a shadow of his former self, diminished by age and senility.  Stiles spoke freely about his alcoholism, but Noah couldn’t bring himself to broach the subject.  Instead, he turned the topics towards the safe and banal until it was time to go to bed.

 

It was early the next morning at the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic when the werewolf heard someone enter.  That wouldn’t be noteworthy in an hour or so, but they hadn’t opened yet.  The door was still closed and locked.  Gently returning the cat to its cage, he shut the door and moved quietly towards the intruder.  Though the mountain ash in the building kept most supernatural creatures at bay, there were still paths around it—like the ones that he, himself, used—if one knew where to step.  Fangs and claws crept forth as his eyes began to glow in anticipation of whatever possible threat awaited him.  After all, the supernatural were not the only things to be wary of in Beacon Hills.

“Noah!” the werewolf called out in surprise when he saw the culprit, fangs and claws already beginning to recede.  “You scared the crap out of me.   I had just sprayed one of the animals down, so I didn’t catch your scent.  What are you doing here at this hour?”

“Hey, Uncle Theo,” the ginger smiled sheepishly as he watched preternatural red eyes dim to normal.  “Sorry.  I used the spare key.  Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

The shapeshifter shook his head with a grin.  “It’s fine.  You know I’m always glad to see you, but that doesn’t answer the question of why you’re here at this hour.  Shouldn’t you be at school?”

The younger man shuffled awkwardly.  “I got suspended yesterday for fighting.  I thought Tate or Tara would have told you.”

Theo tapped on the exam table to indicate that the teen should hop up there, which he did.  Theo, meanwhile, leaned against it and folded his arms across his chest.  “My children are teenagers.  I’m their father.  I’m probably the _last_ person they would share something interesting with.  That begs the most important question then: does your _mother_ know you’re here?  I do not want on Lydia’s bad side.”

Noah blushed.  “Not _exactly_.  I mean, she’d already left for school, and yeah, I’m grounded.  But I’m also bored.  I was hoping I could help you out around here today.”

Theo stared at the boy in scrutiny.  “You want to tell me why you have a shiner?  Jordan started teaching you how to fight about the time you could walk.  That freakish melon of yours mean your muscle memory pretty much makes you Neo from the Matrix about ten seconds after someone shows you something.”

“Who?” the boy asked in earnest.

“Ugh,” Theo sighed.  “How in the Hell are you Stiles Stilinski’s son and you haven’t seen _The Matrix_?  That just doesn’t even seem possible.”

Noah shrugged.  “I don’t like old movies.  I mean, I think I’ve heard of the one you mean, but special effects would be garbage by today’s standards.”

One eyebrow went up.  “You’re evading,” the older man noted.  When the realization hit him, his shoulders slumped.  “You got distracted and got effectively sucker-punched, didn’t you?”

It wasn’t so much a question as a statement, and Noah didn’t confirm or deny the suspicions.  After a moment, Theo sighed.  “Hallucinations again?’

Biting his lower lip, Aiden nodded.  Theo pulled him into a hug, hooking the top of the teen’s head under his chin.  “I’m so sorry.  You shouldn’t have to suffer with them.  If I could figure out a way to leech them away like pain, I would,” he promised as much to empty air and cruel fate as his “nephew”.  “Tell you what, you are welcome to hang out with me all day.  I’ll risk your Mom’s wrath, but if she finds out, I just may hide behind you… so fair warning.”

“Besides,” Theo grinned, “I would welcome the company.  The cats and dogs aren’t much in the way of conversationalists.”

 

True to his word, Noah obediently helped around the clinic all day, and true to _his_ word, Theo welcomed the company.  They were having such a good time, in fact, that even with heightened senses, the werewolf didn’t notice that they were no longer alone until he was looking at the other shapeshifter.  “Hey, son,” Theo greeted.  “How was school?”

“Not half as entertaining as here, clearly,” Tate smirked. One eyebrow went up in a way entirely reminiscent of his father’s as he grinned at Noah.  “Trying to take my place?  Cause if so, all of the cages need to be cleaned out on Saturday.”

Noah chuckled.  “Nope.  I’ll just be you when it’s fun.  When it’s time to do the, well, _shitty_ stuff, I’ll stick to being me.”

“Language,” Theo warned.  “I doubt Jordan lets you use words like that.”

“Have you met Jordan?” Noah deadpanned.  “I’m not sure he _knows_ words like that.  It’s like having Clark Kent for a stepfather.”

Tate grinned.  “I like how my Dad uses the selective role model reference there by citing Jordan as an example rather than your Dad, because I’ve _heard_ Stiles use that kind of language.”

Theo shrugged.  “I’ve been at this parenting thing for seventeen years now.  I’m not stupid.  I do, however, have another patient to see.  I’ll leave you two to it.”

“So how are you doing?  Really?” Tate asked his best friend.  “You took a pretty good beating yesterday.”

Noah cut his eyes towards the werecoyote.  “Yeah, I did.  Thanks for that, by the way,” he added sarcastically.

The dark-haired boy frowned, obviously stung by the remark.  He said no words, but his face spoke volumes, and the guilt he wore caused the black-eyed human to groan.  “I’m not a fan of getting my ass kicked, but no, I don’t actually blame you for it.  I’m just taking out my frustrations on you like normal.”

Tate nodded.  “Go ahead.  I’ll heal,” he smiled, walking over to touch two fingers to the “battle scar”.  Only the faintest and most transient of black lines passed into his hand before disappearing.  “It’s not even as bad as it looks.  Quit being a bitch.”

“You suck at apologies,” Noah responded, sticking out his tongue.  “No wonder I like your sister better than you.”

“You wound me,” Tate fired back, clutching his chest.

Shaking his head, Noah could only laugh.  “You and Aiden seriously need to stop spending so much time together.  It’s like you two are sharing a brain… and a crown… for biggest drama queen and stupidity.  Take your pick.”

The shapeshifter shrugged.  “Not likely to happen anytime soon.  Kind of dating his sister.”

“I’m aware,” Noah mused.  “And he’s dating yours.  Luckily, Allison doesn’t know that.  I do not have to pick sides in World War III, thank you very much.  You might have the whole healing factor and pointy bits, but my money is on her.  That girl has a mean streak.”

“She’s not all bad,” Tate defended weakly.  It was less than enthusiastic, but honest.

Noah rolled his eyes.  “I know that.  My sister… remember?  I’m just well-acquainted with her… quirks.  It doesn’t help that her insecurity is coupled with Intermittent Explosive Disorder.”

“I know, right?” Tate asked.  “I’m just glad she’s not a werewolf.  Dad said they had enough trouble with one werewolf with IED.  What are the odds of two werewolves with it in the same pack?”

“Well, correcting for anomalous external factors, we’d have to substitute a derived constant to account for the Nemeton before we looked at a bell curve and plugged in the approximately 4.2% incidence of lifetime IED, dismissing the increased occurrence of transitory rises, particularly among teenagers and females and….”

Tate roared.  He literally roared.  His eyes flared blue for just a moment… just long enough for his father to come running into the room.  “Sorry, Dad.  He was doing that zone-out thing while he nerded, and it was the fastest way I knew to snap him out of it.”

Theo exhaled in relief.  “Okay, I’ve told you not to roar like that.  You’re lucky the English bulldog I was working on—the one you terrified, by the way—was left here by his owner; otherwise, I’d be having to explain to said owner what he just heard.”

“I didn’t hear or smell anyone else in the building.  I figured it was safe enough,” Tate protested.

“I’ve told you time and again that you can never be 100% sure, so you only use your abilities in a public place during an absolute emergency.  You said it yourself… it was the _fastest_ way to snap him out of it… not the _only_ way,” Theo pointed out.  “And because this isn’t the first time that we’ve had this discussion—even recently—and since you two enjoy each other’s company so much, you can join him in being grounded for the next week.”

The werecoyote’s mouth flew open.  “Dad!”

“Care to make it two weeks?” Theo asked, raising his eyebrow in challenge.

“No, sir,” Tate replied meekly.

Theo smiled.  Walking over to his son, he kissed him on the top of his head before leaving.  As he did so, he called out, “Love you.”

Noah frowned.  “Sorry I got you into trouble.  I appreciate it, though.  I started calculating numbers and tracing them through a Mobius paradigm.  I would have gotten lost in my head, and you know how much I hate what comes next.  Because, you know, my schizophrenic delusions weren’t enough of a problem without other symptomatology.”

Tate nodded.  “I know.  That’s why I roared.  Being grounded is not that big a deal.  Dad’s a softie.”

“Then why the theatrics when he grounded you?”

“So that he’ll _remain_ a softie,” Tate chuckled.  “He likes to imagine himself a disciplinarian.  Believe it or not, he’s never been the stern Dad.  I think we can thank Grandma Melissa’s influence for that.”

Noah smiled.  “Are you too grounded to go grab a burger?  Since I spent all day with Theo, I’ve actually done the grunt-work you normally do after school.”

“Sure.  I’ll let him know we’re going out.  You can drive,” Tate grinned, tossing him his keys.

The ginger sighed.  “You know I can’t.  Thanks to the cataleptic episodes, I’m not allowed to have a driver’s license.”

“I know this, but it’s not fair that you’re sixteen years old and can’t drive.  It’s a rite of passage.   If you’re worried about blanking out or going rigid behind the wheel, I’ll be right next to you.  My reflexes are fast enough to make sure you don’t hurt us or anyone else,” the werecoyote assured him.  “Besides, if we get pulled over, your stepfather is the Sheriff.”

“I don’t know,” Noah hesitated.

Tate placed a hand on either of his best friend’s shoulders and started urging him towards the door.  In the back of his mind, he wondered if he could be half as strong.  Noah had the advantages of being insanely smart… but at the price of his mental health and the self-doubt that came with it.  While the werecoyote considered himself mentally strong, he questioned whether he would ask for the Bite in Noah’s situation, or if Noah, himself, would.  Tate knew Stiles and Lydia’s opinion.  With a risk of death, the answer was an unequivocal “No”.   Noah would soon be an adult, though, and he’s the one who would have to face a lifetime plagued by delusions, blackouts, and seizures.

Noah nearly faltered and would have taken both himself and Tate to the floor if the dark-haired boy didn’t possess unnaturally quick response times.  Theo once again rushed out of the exam area, “What the Hell?”

“I’m going to KILL HIM!” Tara shouted as she stormed into the back to join everyone else, her eyes glowing gold as she growled towards the other room where frightened animals growled, hissed, and whined in response.

“Who are you talking about?” Theo demanded.  “And have you _completely_ lost your mind?  What is _wrong_ with you two today?”

The brunette girl stared at her father indignantly.  “What’s wrong with me is _HIM!_   You know?  Your _friend_ … my coach… the asshole.”

“Okay, you’re grounded, too,” Theo glowered.  “You two are seriously ignoring all the boundaries today and it stops right now.”

The whole exchange stung for Theo, and not just because he had to ground his kids.  “What did Liam do?” he sighed.  Liam was ever a sore subject.  They barely spoke anymore—hadn’t in years, and it was rarely a pleasant exchange.

The girl yelled roared—like a human—and struggled with every fiber of her being to contain the fangs and claws trying to emerge.  Theo could almost see his daughter mentally counting to calm herself as she’d been taught.  While she didn’t possess her cousin’s Intermittent Explosive Disorder, they were a match for one another in baseline aggression.  “What happened?” he repeated in a softer tone, trying to force her to match his energy.

“He benched me!  And with the big game tomorrow!”

“Why would he do that?” her father asked.  “You’re captain of the team.”

Tara looked away.  “I got mad and threw my stick at the goal.  I kind of… broke it.”

“The stick or the goal?” Noah asked, halfway teasing.

When she didn’t answer immediately, Tate answered for her.  “Both,” he guessed—accurately by her lack of refute.  He knew his sister all-too-well.

Theo sighed once more.  “Lock up for me, Tate.  Then all of you head home.  I’m going to go talk to Liam and see if I can fix this.” He was less than confident in his ability to do so, but he had to try.  For his kids, he would do anything.

Watching his father leave on what was likely a fool’s errand, Tate just shook his head.  “Why don’t you go see Aiden?” he suggested to his twin.  “I’m going to give Noah a driving lesson after I finish up here.”

Tara opened her mouth to protest, but after only a split-second’s deliberation, she nodded.  “I need to.  If Dad can’t get Coach Dunbar to change his mind, I’m going to need someone to keep me from going on a killing spree.”

 

“Can you _calm_ down?” Aiden asked his girlfriend.  “If I wanted a high-strung lacrosse player screaming nonsensically at the top of her lungs, I have one that lives down the hall.”

Tara frowned.  “Am I really being that bad?”

“Well, not to take pot-shots at Allison with the comparison, but yeah,” he told her gently.  “Last time you got this worked up, I had gashes in my back that took almost a month to heal.  Keeping them hidden while changing in the locker room was _not_ easy.”

The werecoyote blushed.  “Sorry.”

He grinned mischievously.  “I wasn’t complaining then.  Not complaining now.  I just need you to talk to me, not scream in my general direction.  I know it’s not anything to do with me, but I can’t help if you won’t let me.”

She leaned into his touch, delighting in the tactile stimulation.  “I’m sorry,” she offered again, this time for her outburst.  “And I’m sorry for keeping our relationship a secret.  Everything’s just so… complicated.”

“We agreed,” Aiden smiled gently.  “When the season’s over, we’ll tell them, but right now, the Cyclones don’t need wonder where your loyalties lie because you’re sleeping with the co-captain of your biggest rivals.”

“At least time will make things easier with the team.  I don’t think there will ever be a good time to tell Allison,” Tara groaned.

Aiden shrugged.  “Probably not.  I love my sister, but she’s usually yelling too loudly to hear the voice of reason.  I try to defuse things as best I can, but there’s only so much that even I can do.  She’s never really forgiven me for stealing her spotlight by making co-captain alongside her last year.”

Tara could appreciate why.  “Can you imagine how the rest of the team felt?  To not only get shown up by a freshman prodigy… but _two_ of them?”

“Oh, I get it.  I go out of my way to make sure they know how much I appreciate them, which is why they like me more than her, but don’t tell her that,” he teased.  “I mean, it was bound to be a sore subject for them, but it’s slightly lessened by the blow that we should have been sophomores then instead of now.”

Tara was reminded of how remarkable her boyfriend truly was.  When Ethan was killed, Allison shut down.  She was biologically Jackson’s daughter, but from the time she was born, Allison Whittemore had always been closer to her other father.  She watched Ethan die.  It took years of counseling to help mend those scars to the degree they had, but those wounds were ever fresh… ever angry.  Fitting, since that trauma caused them gave her the anger that constantly hung about over her like a crowd.

Those years of therapy put her behind in school, a sore subject anyway.  Allison was no slouch academically, but she didn’t have Jackson’s aptitude off the lacrosse field.  Aiden, meanwhile, excelled both on and off the field.  It’s how he did Allison’s work for her, even helping her cheat at times, to help her catch up to some degree.  While he did so, he deliberately failed so as she skipped grades, he was held back.  Most people didn’t realize it, thinking the loss of a parent had finally taken their toll.  Most people weren’t Tara.  She saw right through it.  Noah did, of course, and Tara suspected that so did Lydia, but the triplets’ mother said nothing.

“Well, I’m glad you’re a sophomore now,” she chuckled.  “I’m not sure I’m ready to date an older man.”

“We’re in the same grade, but I’m still older,” he reminded her.

She shrugged, pulling him close.  “Semantics.  Do you want to argue semantics, or do you want to kiss?”

Leaning into her, Aiden snaked his hands around her waist.  He always found it odd that during the uncomfortable conversations about Stiles being the “little spoon” with Malia, her daughter was more of a “girlie-girl” when she was with him, preferring to let him take the lead.  His human ego appreciated it.  Finally pulling his lips away, his eyes lingered shut for a few extra seconds.  “Do you want to tell me why you nearly took your teammate’s head off anyway?”

She paused, staring at him for a moment.  “I hadn’t told you why Coach benched me.  Whose ass am I kicking?  Noah or Tate’s?”

“I refused to name my sources,” he told her, trying and failing to maintain a façade of seriousness.

“Noah, then,” she deduced to his surprise.  “If it was Tate, you would have told me.  He and I fight all the time, but it’s never a big deal.  We’re siblings, after all.  With Noah, though, you and Tate both always try to protect him.”

Shrugging, Aiden confirmed, “Guilty.  Best friends, remember?  But then again, we’ve all tried to protect him… ever since we were kids.  When he first started getting sick… or at least when he first started showing signs.  I guess would be a better way to say it.”

The werecoyote understood.  “I get it.  It’s why I threw the stick in Greenberg’s general direction.”

“Dad talked about his Dad… a mediocre player and a complete kiss-ass.”

“Yeah?  Well, this Greenberg is a great player and just a complete ass,” she snorted.  “He’s the one who hit Noah, and though I didn’t do anything about it in the hallway, I’d be damned if I wouldn’t do something on the field.  Especially when he started running his mouth.”

Aiden smiled.  “And talking about his mother, who, coincidentally, is mine.”

“Two birds.  One stones.  Zero surviving lacrosse sticks.  He was in goal during practice, so I threw my stick next to his head.  If I’d wanted to hit him and split his head open like a ripe melon, I could have easily done so,” she pointed out.  “Coach knows this, but I didn’t get any credit for that.”

“The unreasonable bastard!”

She cocked an eyebrow.  “Are you taking his side?”

“I’m on your side, always,” he assured her.  “But you did kind of destroy team property… even for a good cause.”

“You’re just happy you don’t have to face me on the field tomorrow, little man.”

Aiden shook his head in laughter.  “Yes and no.  I kind of like knowing there’s a chance your body could be rubbing up against mine.”

“More like colliding, and not that likely.  You’re a goalie.  I’m a midfielder.”

“A man can dream,” he smiled, leaning in to kiss her.  He realized she wasn’t fully committed to the act.  “Okay, now what.”

“Just tired of fighting with Coach.  It’s like nothing I do is ever good enough for him,” she confessed.  “It’s like he hates me or something.”

Aiden shook his head.  “That’s not it, and you know it.  There’s bad blood there all night, but Liam Dunbar’s issues are with Theo, not you.”

 

Theo pounded on the door.  “Liam!” he shouted.  “LIAM!  Come out here!”

It took a moment, but then it flew open with a very pissed off and indignant Beta on the other side, claws and fangs emerging before the door stopped its motion.  As Liam’s eyes flared gold, Theo flashed his own their burning crimson in response.  Theo said nothing, but his posture conveyed his message cleanly enough.

Liam’s nostrils flared, but he let the transformation slip away.  As his eyes returned to normal, he demanded of the Alpha, “So that’s your plan?  Come to _my_ home and play big bad Alpha?  Make some demand—bark—and I’m just supposed to say how high?”

“No,” Theo began, but he was quickly cut off.

“You’re not _my_ Alpha.  I’m not intimidated, and I’m not impressed.”

Theo let the light fade from his own glare, and his anger slipped away when he realized he was only escalating the situation.  “I’m not here as an Alpha… yours or anyone else’s.  I’m here as a father.  I need to know what, if anything, I can do to get you to stop hating my children.  Hate me all you want, but please… _please_ , stop taking it out on them.”

Liam was robbed of his own anger, blinded by the accusation.  “I don’t,” he began, pausing when he realized his voice cracked.  “I could _never_ hate them.  They’re _his_ kids.  If I’m hard on them, it’s because I want them to be better.  I want them to….”

“You want them to _be_ him,” Theo finished, understanding.

The Beta didn’t realize a tear had welled in his eye until it left a burning trail down his cheek.  He didn’t bother to do anything about it.  “I want them to be _better_ than him.  It’s what he would have wanted.  I push them, but I never meant for them to think I _hated_ them.”

Theo nodded gratefully.  “You just hate me.”

Liam finally reached up to wipe his face.  “I don’t _hate_ you.  I _blame_ you.  You came back to this town for your own pack.  Well, you finally got what you wanted, but at what cost?”

“You think I wanted this?  I didn’t want any of this!  Not anymore, and _never_ at such a price,” Theo protested.  “When you brought me back—when you freed me from that Hell—I knew exactly what I wanted, but I didn’t know how to get it.  I wanted a pack—not to lead, but to be a part of—I wanted the pack I had sacrificed when I got you to turn on Scott, when I got Scott to turn on Stiles, when I shot Malia, when….”

“You’re not helping your case here,” the lacrosse coach grumbled.

Theo chuckled despite himself, but only for a moment.  “I was damaged, broken, and evil, but somewhere inside of me, my Grinch heart responded to you… to all of you.  Being imprisoned and tortured—having my heart ripped out repeatedly—wasn’t the worst part.  It was that sense of loss.  It wasn’t that no one was coming to save me… not even Scott McCall.  It was that no one would mourn or miss me.  No one cared… not even Scott McCall.”

Liam listened intently.  He wasn’t sure where the former chimera was going with this.

“Then I was back, thanks to you.  I helped, first against the Wild Hunt and then against the Anuk-Ite and all that insanity.  It was absolutely born out of self-preservation at first, but somewhere along the way, something changed.”

“I remember.  I remember you making yourself a target for me.  I remember you taking Gabe’s pain, despite everything he had done,” Liam admitted.  “You had changed.  When you betrayed Scott—again—by sleeping with Malia, I thought it had all been a lie.”

Theo shook his head.  “It wasn’t.  I wouldn’t have done that to him deliberately.  I wouldn’t have done that to you.”

Liam nodded.  “I know.  Malia told us, but I already knew.”

“Then why?”

“Because he came back into that house—into that death trap—for you,” Liam answered, tears once again falling.  “If you hadn’t been there, Monroe couldn’t have killed him!”

Theo shook his head.  “And I was in that house for our kids.  I had to save his legacy.  I had to save all that was left of Malia.  I had to save the very best part of me.  I was more than willing—happy, even—to die there, so long as he got them out safely.  I wanted him to leave me behind.”

“You were shot up and bleeding to death!  Did you really think Scott would do that?” Liam demanded.

“Not exactly,” Theo confessed.  “But despite my years of refusal, I let him give me the Bite.  The initial transformation into a werewolf would kickstart everything to the point that I _could_ heal.”

“If it didn’t kill you.  He was never going to take that chance… to leave you there to die alone.  Staying there long enough to be sure you didn’t is what gave that psychotic bitch a chance to rally her followers and come back,” Liam recounted, though Theo knew the story—and the pain—all too well.  “And then…”

Theo could see the hesitation in the other man.  He knew that Liam didn’t want to say it because it would make it real.  It was why the two of them had barely spoken in the years since.  He couldn’t make Liam do that.  He couldn’t force one of his best friends to deliver that finishing stroke, so he did it for him.  “And then I killed him.  It’s okay, you can say it.  I have no qualms about confessing what I did.  I haven’t lied to anyone since long before that moment, and I’m not about to start now.  I’m certainly not going to lie to you.”

“You say you have no qualms, but you feel guilt, right?”

“How can you even ask that?” Theo asked, his own face stinging with the tears that fell freely.  “Of course, I do.  I thought I was already dead, and then I wake up under the full moon to find him standing over me, body riddled with yellow wolfsbane bullets and dying.  My children were about to lose their father.  He knew it.  I knew it.  And the thought of telling my kids that the best man I’ve ever known was dead because of me?  I would rather go back to Hell for all eternity.”

The former chimera could barely breathe, it hurt so deeply.  “He was my best friend, Liam.  You saved me, but you didn’t need me.  You had Mason and Corey.  Hayden came back to you.  Scott needed me.  Our kids needed me.  With him gone?  They were going to need me that much more.  He wanted me to have the best chance to survive against Monroe, and to be there… for his family.  Not just his children, but his pack.  He wouldn’t be there.  He couldn’t, but I could.”

“I knew what he wanted me to do.  He never said it, but I knew,” Theo sobbed.  “When he took my hand, I fought him.  I wouldn’t unclench that fist for anything, but he looked at me and said one word.  He said ‘Please’.”

Liam had never heard the details.  He had refused to hear them.  The others had and had accepted the tale.  Even Stiles, when he was able to stop drowning in a bottle and his grief, didn’t blame Theo, whom he had once (justifiably) hated.  Theo continued.  “I relaxed my fingers, and he took my hand.  He stroked my fingers with his own.  He told me it was going to be okay.  That we would all be okay if I could just do this one last thing.  If I could make one last impossible choice that was no choice at all.”

“When my claws came out, I felt every agonizing millisecond of them growing as though they were fighting it with every fiber of their being,” Theo told him, full-on “ugly crying” at this point.  “He took my hand and pressed it over his heart.   Bitter irony, since a heart was what started all this, but he just… smiled at me.  He said that our kids had both of our hearts, so I would need to carry his with me.”

Theo had to turn his head, snot and tears dripping from his nose and chin to fall on the ground.  “And then he pulled my hand into his chest.  Even as I felt his spark flow into me, I tried to take away his pain… to make it stop for both of us.  I swear to _God_ I tried, Liam.”

“I came back to be an Alpha, but I hate these red eyes.  If I could just give them to you, I would,” Theo told him, finally turning back to face the Beta.  “I loved him, Liam.  Not like the gossipmongers in this town believed, but I loved him.  Everyone loved him.  He was impossible _not_ to love… but I hate him.  I hate him for leaving me to do this without him.  If you wanted to kill me right now—to take the power that is your right—I wouldn’t stop you.  I certainly wouldn’t blame you.”

Theo futilely wiped his face.  “Do whatever you want to me, but please don’t take it out on my kids… on _his_ kids.  I now know that’s not what you meant, but they don’t.  Don’t hold them up to him by comparison.  No one can live up to it.”

As the chimera-turned-Alpha werewolf walked away, Liam wasn’t sure which of them Theo was saying was failing that legacy more.  In that moment, though, Liam knew.  He was selfishly mourning the loss of his Alpha and friend that he hadn’t realized how much Theo—who was also his friend—was hurting.  Liam had been so consumed by it that he hadn’t been there for the rest of the pack, when they were obviously hurting.

Stiles nearly drank himself to death, and Liam hadn’t been there.  When Hayden left him, Liam hadn’t been there, not really.  Even Mason and Corey had left town and vanished from his life to a degree that Corey’s invisibility could have never accomplished.  Malia was long-dead.  Derek was on the opposite side of the country trying to keep Stiles’ head above water.  Jackson was crisscrossing the globe to run from the ghosts of his own loss, as he had done for almost a decade.  Of the actual pack, that only really left Jordan and Lydia.  It was little wonder that in the years that followed, they found comfort in one another.

Realizing just how much he was failing Scott, Liam wanted to howl in pain.  He wanted that visceral release, but he couldn’t bring himself to loosen the cry into the air for fear that Theo would come back.  Or worse still, that he would try to help him.  Instead, the Beta did the only thing he could do as a man.  He collapsed to the ground and he wept.

 

The big game between Devenford Prep and Beacon Hills was the next night, and practically the whole town was in attendance.  Theo shoved his hands into the pockets of his jackets as he took a seat in the stands next to Lydia and Parrish.  “Hey,” she greeted, moving her purse to make room for him.  “I saved you a spot.  Wasn’t sure when you’d be done at the animal clinic.”

“Closed up early,” he explained.  “Our grounded sons actually took care of a lot of things yesterday, so there wasn’t too much to finish up.”

“Tate is his father’s child,” the banshee smiled.  “Both of them, actually.  I have a feeling he’ll be following in both of their footsteps and becoming a veterinarian.”

Theo nodded in agreement.  “I think he will.  He’s a natural for it, just like Scott.  I sort of fell into it.  I hope I’ve done him proud.”

This time, it was the Hellhound who cut in.  “You have, and not just in that animal clinic.”

“Thanks,” the Alpha nodded gratefully.  “It would have been nice if he’d gotten to see me graduate.  I was an undecided college student with few job prospects and little aspirations.  I started cleaning up those cages just to help him out so that he could get home to the kids sooner.  I never really envisioned actually making a career out of it, but when I told him I wanted to be a vet, he didn’t belittle the idea or even seemed shocked.”

Jordan chuckled.  “He called me after you two talked.  I believe his exact words—or _word_ —was ‘Finally’.  He said you were a natural, too.”

Lydia reached over and took Theo’s hand.  “He said once you found that ability to care that you’d denied for so long, you couldn’t turn it off.  He was right, you know.  I see it every time you’re with you kids… or mine, even.  Uncle Theo being their favorite has nothing to do with the eye color.”

Theo’s cheeks burned with a deeper crimson than said eyes, blushing from the compliment.  “So, is Jackson going to make it?”

“No.  He made it out of Heathrow on time, but his connection at JFK got delayed because of weather,” she frowned.  “He’ll get in late tonight.”

“That’s too bad,” Theo commented honestly.  “So, you going to cheer for the twins to fill in?”

She grinned.  “Of course.  I mean, they are my children after all.  I’ll be cheering for Tara, too, of course.  I mean, she’s my favorite—if only—niece.  Besides, she is the captain of my school’s lacrosse team.”

“Speaking of kids, where is my son, anyway?” Theo asked, looking around.

“Probably off making time with my daughter?” Lydia smirked knowingly.

The Alpha was shocked.  “They’re a thing.”

“Even I knew that,” Jordan cut in.

Lydia cut her eyes towards her husband.  “Only because I told you.  That one I saw coming a long time ago.  Aiden and Tara were the one that surprised me.”

Theo was dumbfounded.  “Wait, what?  How long has that been going on?”

“About a month or so, but don’t say anything.  They don’t want to set Allison off,” she explained.  “But I think they’re planning on telling everyone after the season is over.  Right now, it would send a mixed message to their teams.”

Theo wasn’t really listening.  As he watched the teams take the field, he saw Tara leading the Cyclones.  He met Liam’s gaze and nodded in appreciation.  Liam nodded in return.

 

When the game was over, the Devenford Prep locker room was not a happy place.  Beacon Hills had won by one goal, and Tara McCall making the winning shot was a particularly sore subject.  Aiden was trying to calm his sister down, but thus far, his efforts were failing miserably.  “There’s no way she could have made that shot!” Allison shouted at her brother after the rest of the team had vacated.

“It was a hard shot, not an impossible one,” he told her.  “You could have made that shot.  It would have been difficult, but you could have made it.”

“But she was barely trying!” she protested.

Aiden shook his head.  “That’s not how it was at all.  You’re looking back on it from a skewed vantage point because you want someone to blame for us losing.  We played a good game.  They played a slightly better one, that’s all.  It was one point.  It sucks, but there’s no shame in it.”

“There’s no shame in it because she _cheated_!” Allison yelled, so mad she was shaking.  “She used her fucking werecoyote bullshit, that cheating bitch!”

The insults had grown so vehement, so toxic in their energy, that Aiden hadn’t maintained his carefully neutral and supportive mask quite well enough.  His face betrayed him, and so did his words.  “That’s enough!  You’re being petty and childish.  Stop!”

Aiden rarely confronted her when she got like this, so it caught her off-guard.  She stopped to stare at him, and that was when she saw something she hadn’t noticed.  She saw something she didn’t like.  “Oh… my… God,” she uttered.  “You’re fucking her, aren’t you?  You’re fucking that whoring dog.”

“ENOUGH!” Aiden fired back, his own temper rising to meet hers.  He might not have IED, but he was mad, perhaps more than he had ever been.

She just stood there for what seemed like an eternity.  Then her face contorted in rage, and she stormed out of the locker room.  She was in her car and speeding away before Aiden had a chance to catch her, much less stop her.  Racing to his own car, he called his girlfriend.  “We’ve got a problem,” he told her as soon as he heard Tara pick up.

 

When Aiden got to Tara’s, the werecoyote was standing outside.  No sooner was he out of the car than she was shaking her head.  “I haven’t seen hide or hair of her.  I’ve been waiting,” she told him.

Aiden bit his lower lip and thought about it.  “Even as mad as she is, there’s got to be some part of her that knows coming here is a bad idea.  Fighting you is one thing.  She’s not going to fight her boyfriend.”

“And if she’s being rational at all, she’s not going to start something with my Dad just inside,” Tara added.  “But if she didn’t come here, where did she go?”

As if on cue, Aiden’s cell rang.  He was about to hit the ignore button when he saw that it was Noah.  “Listen, little brother, right now’s not really the best ti….” When he hung up the phone, he sighed.  “I think I know where now.  He said Mom just got a phone call about a trespasser at the school… right about the time that Jordan got a call about some sort of disturbance.”

Tara shook her head and moved to the passenger side, pulling open the door and climbing inside.  When Aiden didn’t immediately follow, she leaned over.  “Well?  Let’s go.”

 

When they got to the school, they weren’t prepared for what they saw.  Allison’s Porsche was half-in/half-out of numerous and now-broken windows of Beacon Hills High School.  The car was demolished, a hodgepodge of twisted steel, broken fiberglass, blaring sounds, flashing lights, and leaking fluids.  “Is she?” he began, choosing not to finish the sentence.

“Bleeding, but not overmuch,” Tara assured him, eyes shut, nose lifted into the air.  “I can barely smell it over her pissed off-itude.”

“Where is she?” Aiden demanded.

The shapeshifter pointed and started stomping towards the lacrosse field.  When they got there, they found Allison screaming into the night sky, using the tire iron from her vehicle to smash into the electronic scoreboard, now laying broken on the field after being deposited there by the still-running commercial mower lifted halfway into the air on what remained of one of the posts.

“Allison, stop!” Tate called out from the opposite approach.  When Aiden and Tara looked to him in surprise, he called back to them.  “Noah told me, so I ran over here before your folks got here.”

The human female turned her anger towards her “boyfriend”.  “Let me guess, you’re taking your sister’s side.”

He shook his head.  “I’m not taking anyone’s side here,” he reassured her, moving towards her cautiously until he was certain she wasn’t going to explode.  He raised his hand and brushed the blond locks from her face, laying his palm against her cheek and taking the physical pain her body barely registered from the cuts and bruises.  “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

As Lydia and Jordan got out of the car, the pair looked at the scene, trying to make sense of all the chaos.  It took a moment for either of them to even register that Noah was still trapped in the backseat of the vehicle until they opened the door.  They joined both sets of twins just in time to see and hear the exchange.

“You chose her,” Allison cried at her brother.  “Just like coach chose you.”

Aiden shook his head.  “What are you talking ab…?”

“I know he made you captain, but you would only agree to be captain if he made us co-captains,” she countered.  She pushed Tate away.  “You knew they were together, didn’t you?  You kept their secret.  You chose them over me… again.”

“It’s not like that,” Tate protested.

She stared daggers at him.  “It’s just like that.  Just like they knew it,” she hissed, pointing at Lydia, Jordan, and Noah.  “I can see it written all over their faces.  The only person here who didn’t know was me.”

“I don’t know why it surprises me that you’d all lie to me.  No one chose me, but that’s hardly surprising at all.  My own father chooses to work cases and protect a Nemeton half a world away rather than be with me!” Allison sobbed, she pointed in the direction of her now totaled Porsche.  “He wasn’t even there to give us those damned cars on our birthday.  The dealership delivered them, and we got a text!”

Lydia’s heart broke.  “Tate, Tara, why don’t you two head home?  Aiden, you and your sister are coming to the house tonight.  I’ll call the Dean at Devenford and tell them you won’t be making bed check.”

Jordan took off his jacket, walked over to Allison—still in only her uniform, and wrapped it around her.  Everyone in the family knew their roles… their strengths.  Jordan was the one no one could get mad at.  Allison didn’t fight him, not then nor when he walked her to his car.

The banshee picked up her phone and dialed a number.  “Yeah, I know you’re on the way, but when you get here, we need to have a serious chat.”

 

The next day, Noah, Aiden, and Allison sat at the breakfast table with Jordan, Lydia, and Jackson.  “You’ve been expelled from Devenford,” Lydia told her daughter.  When Allison opened her mouth, the banshee’s glare silenced her immediately.  “Per their rules, willful and malicious property damage as a result of an athletics competition has a zero-tolerance policy.  Ironically, they call it the Liam Dunbar Rule.”

She continued, “You will immediately transfer to Beacon Hills under my close supervision, because that’s what you need right now.”

“Which is also why I’m leaving the London office to my partners, and I’m moving back to Beacon Hills full time,” Jackson told his daughter.  “You’re going to stay here with Lydia and Jordan while I stay with your Grandpa David and Grandma Natalie.  Now that you won’t be in the dorms, I’ll find us an apartment by the end of the week, and we can pick out something more permanent together.”

Aiden cleared his throat.  “Mom.  Dad.  I want to leave Devenford and transfer to Beacon Hills with her.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jackson began, but Lydia placed a hand on his arm to halt his words.

Aiden just met Allison’s gaze with a sympathetic smile.  “I know I don’t have to.  I’m _choosing_ to.  She’s my sister, and there’s nothing more important than family.”

 

Later that night, amidst the pouring rain, a girl in her teens stared up at the empty warehouse building.  There had obviously been people living in the converted apartments years ago, but the place looked bleak, desolate, and utterly vacant.  Still, though, she smelled a scent.  Not one she recognized, but familiar, nonetheless.  There was something about it that distantly brought her mother to mind.  Not as much as she would have expected, but she drew comfort from it, nonetheless.

She heard movement inside the building as she took the elevator up.  Cold and soaked to the bone, she shivered as much from anticipation as dampness and temperature.  The “penthouse” was little more than an industrial loft, but it was lived in.  Walking in, she looked around.  Turning to face the footsteps behind her that managed to catch her unaware, she called out the name without thinking.  “Uncle Derek?”

She saw only the gun.  “Not exactly.”

**Author's Note:**

> DRAMATIS PERSONAE:
> 
> Aiden Daniel Whittemore, 16, human son of Ethan Steiner (though most believe him to be Jackson's biological son because of their resemblance) and Lydia Martin, he lives with his grandfather, David, and his grandmother, Natalie, when not at Devenford Prep, where he is co-captain of the lacrosse team alongside his sister. He is the fraternal triplet to Allison Whittemore and Noah Stilinski. Currently dating Tara McCall.
> 
> Allison Lorraine Whittemore, 16, human daughter of Jackson Whittemore and Lydia Martin, she lives with her grandfather, David, and her grandmother, Natalie, when not at Devenford Prep, where she is co-captain of the lacrosse team alongside her brother. She is the fraternal triplet to Aiden Whittemore and Noah Stilinski. Currently dating Tate McCall.
> 
> Noah Martin Stilinski, 16, human son of Mieczysław "Stiles" Stilinski and Lydia Martin, he lives with his mother and her second husband, Jordan Parrish. Intelligent to a degree that defies description, he has shizophreniform disorder with delusions and catalepsy. He is the fraternal triplet to Aiden and Allison Whittemore.
> 
> Tara Elizabeth McCall, 17, werecoyote daughter of Scott McCall, Malia Tate, and Theo Raeken. Captain of the Beacon Hills Cyclones lacrosse team, she is the "fraternal" (identical) twin to Tate McCall. Currently dating Aiden Whittemore.
> 
> Tate Peter McCall, 17, werecoyote son of Scott McCall, Malia Tate, and Theo Raeken. He is the "fraternal" (identical) twin to Tara McCall. Currently dating Allison Whittemore.


End file.
